Rivet City Green
by Woot69
Summary: Butch loves the water. Given enough time, he'll realize he loves more than that... Butch/Harkness slash.


Growing up in the vault wasn't conducive to learning how to swim. The Vault Tec engineers hadn't installed any pools in their underground prison, which Butch felt was a huge oversight. The day Mister Brotch taught them about swimming, the idea wouldn't leave his mind. He imagined being surrounded by water - preferably cool and rad free - to be like flying, but not in the sky. The pictures in their pre war history textbooks were tantalizing; families splashed each other, people floated on their backs and dove into ponds. During one of the few civil conversations between Butch and Mister Brotch, he'd asked the teacher why people swam. "Exercise, mostly. Also, it was a great way to escape the heat." He'd puzzled over that a bit. The vault was never warmer than seventy degrees and he got more than enough exercise beating up chumps. Were he ever able to swim, he doubted those reasons would motivate him. Ultimately, he just wanted to fly.

When Amata became the Overseer and finally allowed access to the Wasteland, he was the first one out. Armed with only a light backpack and every available map of the Wasteland downloaded into his pip-boy, he set off for the Potomac. Swimming in irradiated water was a bad idea, but with enough Rad-X and RadAway, he'd manage to not turn himself into a ghoul. As he walked, he pondered where the best place to learn to swim would be. Eventually he decided on the area around Rivet City, due to the simple fact that the largest city in the Wastes had to have excellent security and a clear perimeter. And if they were lucky, maybe he'd decide to live there too. He sure as hell wouldn't be going back to 101 - no easy access to water.

He'd finally arrived at his destination covered in mutie blood, his travel pack bulging with the spoils of victory. It was early in the morning; more than enough time for him to take care of some business and study his pre war book on the basics of swimming before taking his first dip. His goal was to master the "doggy paddle" by the time darkness fell. He went through a round of bullshit with the dickhead chief of security at the entrance and finally was allowed access to the marketplace. The amount of crap he was able to sell scored him enough caps to pay for food and lodging for a year on the ship, he noted with satisfaction. He quickly set up his new home at the Weatherly Hotel and set off to accomplish the rest of his to-do list.

In the days that followed, he was pleased to find that he was a natural at all things aquatic. He could hold his breath for four minutes, he could do the breast stroke around the entire ship without having to stop to rest, and he swam better than a fish underwater. He arms had tons of scars from where he injected RadAway into himself; Chief Harkness once accused him of being a junkie during one of their less pleasant encounters. That was such bullshit - if he was addicted to anything, it was the water his home floated in. Even though the sensation of swimming in radiation sometimes felt like being in a vat of maggots, the world under Rivet City felt more like home than any other place he'd been. He snorted in amusement at the idea of having a fish on the back of his jacket instead of a snake. The idea of himself covered in scales instead of skin made him chuckle, and he flat out laughed when he thought of being king of "The Tunnel Fish".

Time of day never seemed to matter to him when he swam. His skin grew dark from all the time he spent in the sun but he also liked floating in the water at night, especially when the moon was full. Security undoubtedly thought he was the maddest man in the Wastes; when he wasn't picking locks and causing fights inside the ship, he spent hours in the greenish radiation soup. Sometimes he could hear Chief chastising his staff for paying more attention to the lunatic in the water than they did on making sure the surrounding area was free of Super Mutants. But, as time went on, he noticed that Chief was watching him too. One particular day they had stared at each other as he slowly did the backstroke alongside the side of the ship Chief had been stationed on. He'd had a tingly feeling as they locked gazes for a minute or two, before the bridge blocked Chief from view. It had to have been radiation, because a Tunnel Snake would never fall for the law.

The longest and most weird conversation he ever had with Chief had occurred on the bridge, as he was returning from a midnight swim. Hark must've swapped shifts with Lana, he was usually on the top floor of the bridge tower at this time of the night. The only reason he knew that was because he'd gotten bored one day and hacked the boat's computer network to obtain a listing of the officers and their shift schedules. Instead of absently nodding at Lana as he passed, he found himself held in place by the firm grip of the Chief on his arm. The moonlight turned Chief's moss green irises into a silvery gray that made a strange tingle of heat dance up his spine. He was so busy marveling over the color change that he missed part of what Chief had said.

"Deloria, are you listening to me?"

"Uh? No... What did you say, Hark?" He shook his head, sending drops of water flying out of his damp black hair. Swimming must've taken more out of him than usual tonight; he wasn't normally this odd around the man.

"That's Chief Harkness to you." Chief released his grip and took a step back. "I asked what you were doing out so late, and in that filthy water no less. Everyone else has the good sense to stay out of it. What are you up to?"

Butch ran his fingers through his wet locks, combing them away from his face as he pondered an answer that would be most likely to irritate. "It's exercise, _Hark_. And I'm trying to beat the heat." he added with a smirk. Chief's eyebrow quirked up at that last bit. Even as dark as it was where they stood, Butch could see his eyes dart up to the moon, then back to the face of the badass in front of him. "Deloria, are you feeling all right? Do you need me to escort you to Doctor Preston? Maybe you're suffering from symptoms of excessive RadAway use."

More than anything Butch really wanted to go take a shower and dry off. Also, he'd been swimming in nothing but a pair of pre war swimming shorts that he had found in a broken down cabinet in the ruins of a house. He really wanted to be back in jeans and a white tee shirt, which is what he always wore when he wasn't in the water. And yet, he found himself leaning against the wall next to Hark, staring up at the moon and ignoring Hark's eyes warily scanning his face. "I'm fine, Chief. I just really like to swim, ok? Radiation or not, there's no feeling like it. When I'm under the surface, it's like I'm in another world. It's peaceful there, ya know? No bar fights or gunshots or screaming. When I'm down there, I feel freer than I ever did. You should try it sometime. If you'd like, I can teach ya how to swim." Did he just offer to spend time with Chief off duty? Hell, maybe the RadAway _was _getting to him.

Harkness settled against the wall next to him, much closer than he needed to. Together they pondered the Wastelands, bathed in soft moonlight. This silence was companionable; Chief seemed to be seriously considering his offer. A few minutes passed before he answered. "I know how to swim, but I've never done it for pleasure, especially at night. Tomorrow is my day off and the moon will still be out. I might join you."

Butch blinked and looked at Chief's profile. The shock of Chief's acceptance dropped his mental guard and he found himself paying much more attention to the man then he ever had. His hair softly blew in the evening breeze, his cheekbones were high and his jaw was strong. Butch never really gave much thought to his sexuality, but his thoughts turned that way as he realized he found what he saw... beautiful. He wanted to run his fingers through that hair, maybe style it differently. He tried to picture what Chief looked like rising out of the water, light making the droplets on his half naked body shine like diamonds. And just like that, the image of Chief covered in a different kind of moisture forced its way to the forefront of his mind. Chief completely naked, bathed in sweat and writhing under him, lost in pleasure. He wanted to see this perfectly composed man break under the deft fingers of _the _Tunnel Snake. Better yet, he wanted to fuck him in the water. He swallowed hard and willed his erection to go down. When that didn't work, he thought of what it would be like to walk in on Old Lady Palmer naked. Oh yeah, that did the trick.

After enough time passed where Butch had mostly dried off, Chief pushed off the wall and turned to the sound of approaching footsteps. "My relief is here. Stay out of trouble. I'll see you tomorrow, right here - say around midnight?"

Butch had to swallow down the butterflies that Chief's question stirred up. "Sure thing. Later." He admired the strong lines of Hark's back until he turned the corner, then sighed and rested his head against the wall. Fuck, the last thing he needed was to get caught up in a bunch of messy emotions. But it had almost been like they had been forced out of him, like the man oozed such beauty and sexuality that he forced Butch to want him. It had been a long time since he'd felt such strong desire for anyone, and it had been another tunnel snake, Paul, who had prompted that wave of lust. But he'd never really felt comfortable notifying his snake brother of his feelings so he stayed silent and jerked off until he'd had to go see Doc James for ointment for friction burns.

Finally, he made his way to the showers. If no one else was there, he might take care of some... business while thinking about all the different ways he would make the Chief of Security moan his name.

The next evening couldn't come fast enough. Butch had embraced his new way of thinking of the Chief surprisingly readily; he even arrived at the exit bridge early and used the time to formulate a plan to get Chief to let him in his pants. Maybe he would try for more than just sex - the Chief may have a stick up his ass but he was easily the most brutal man he'd ever encountered, and that was cause for respect. Butch remembered standing waist deep in the water during a mutie attack, watching Chief take on mutant after mutant with his gun, and then his bare hands when the ammo ran out. And using someone he respected (begrudgingly at first) seemed wrong. It was a little more difficult to wrap his mind around a romantic relationship with a do-gooder. But when he heard steps approaching him and saw Chief in a thin t-shirt and swim shorts, smiling and looking almost... normal... his mind slipped the idea on like a pair of well loved slippers. That smile, the moonlight... Butch had never pegged himself as a romantic but his time in the Wasteland was teaching him all kinds of things about himself. He fell into step besides the Chief and they made their way to the water.

Butch distributed the Rad-X and dosed up, then laid out the RadAway for easy access while Hark downed his pills. Butch pulled off his shirt and dove under the water; seconds later he heard Chief's muffled dive behind him. They surfaced and tread water for a few moments. Butch noticed that Chief had also removed his shirt but most of his chest was unfortunately under the water.

"Mmm, you were right, Deloria. This does feel good. Here's hoping your vault mates make good on their promise to clean the water..."

Butch's eyes bugged. "They were here? When did they leave?" Chief rolled back into a dead man's float and closed his eyes as he answered. "Couple weeks ago. James arrived a few days ahead of his daughter, stayed just long enough to talk Dr. Li and her staff into restarting their old water purification project at the Jefferson Memorial, and then took off again. His daughter wasn't even here three hours, just long enough to fix her gear and figure out where he went."

Butch mimicked Chief's pose, except he kept his eyes open to stare up at the sky. Aside from a few scuffles as children, he'd gotten along with Adaira fairly well. She might have been a bleeding heart like her dad, but she was pretty bad ass too. Now that he thought about it, she kind of reminded him of a female version of the Chief. He would've tried getting with her, but it would've been too much like fucking his sister. Together, they floated not far from the hull of the ship, each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Butch felt like having a bit of fun and splashed Chief, causing him to submerge in shock and pop back up, sputtering. Chief raised an eyebrow, and the corners of his lips slowly drew up a smile very different from the one he'd given a few moments ago. Suddenly he disappeared from view under the water. Butch swore, and started frantically side stroking toward the shore, keeping his eyes nervously on the surface of the water. Then hands grasped his ankles, and he was pulled under.

He blindly reached out for the Chief and caught hold of his arm, dragging him backwards. A little tickle torture was in order here. As soon as he felt the Chief's warmth next to his own skin he propelled them both above water so he could see if Chief was ticklish. It was a shock to discover that he was. Butch's fingers dug into his armpits and they struggled in the water. Chief was laughing too hard to put up much of a fight, and Butch was eating it up. His laughter was gorgeous, deep and rich, pretty much what he expected the Chief's laugh to sound like.

The struggles stopped abruptly when Butch felt Chief's backside drift against his semi-erect member. They were close enough to the shore now that they could touch the sand with their toes. Once Chief's mind processed what he'd felt in the cleft of his ass, he slowly turned his head to regard Butch with a neutral stare. Butch was grateful for the low lighting; he was sure his entire body was beet red by this point. This was not how he had pictured letting the object of his interest know of his feelings. Slowly he became aware that he was still essentially hugging Chief to his chest. He dropped his arms and tried to repair the damage. "Um, sorry Chief..." Fuck, he'd never been good with words. He bit his lip nervously and waited for a reaction.

Chief turned so they were face to face but didn't distance himself. They tread water, hardly any space at all separating them. "It's all right, Deloria. These things happen."

"_Butch_, Chief."

"Hmm?" Chief continued to regard him with that neutral gaze.

Tonight, his eyes were torn between fixating on Chief's gorgeous eyes and those full, sensual lips. Oh, how he wanted to taste that mouth. "Call me Butch, willya? The Overseer used to call me by my last name. I'd rather not be reminded of him."

Chief nodded, and smiled softly. Butch's heart was full of confusing feelings. Why was Chief allowing him so close? What was happening here? His thoughts were broken by Chief's voice, lower pitched than usual. "Let's do a lap around the ship and then I'll have to head back." His words were innocent, yet the way Chief uttered them sent electricity shooting down his spine. He nodded and began to swim, Chief close behind him. Not much else was said for the rest of the evening, although he found himself following Chief to the door of his room.

"Your suggestion was a solid one, Butch. Would it be all right if I joined you on my next day off?" Again, they stood close together in the hallway, only a couple inches separating them. Butch's hands were sweaty; he didn't feel right leaving that awkward moment unexplored. So he handled things the way he usually did; he blurted out the first thing that came into his mind.

"Aintcha gonna ask what happened back there?" Smooth move, dipshit. He swam in a sea of moss green while he waited for Chief's reply. Chief replied by unlocking the door to his room, and pulling Butch inside. Butch stood awkwardly in the center of the room while Chief locked the door and threw his wet shirt and towel on the ground next to it. Butch followed suit, and watched as Chief moved over to a locker big enough to store clothing and armor. He pulled out a dry change of clothes and indicated Butch should have a seat by gesturing at the bed.

Maybe he wasn't brilliant, but he was good at picking up when something odd was going on. Chief used to keep a wary eye and healthy distance from him, but ever since the day that Chief watched him swim, he'd been acting more warmly toward the man he once referred to as "Deloria the delinquent". And he didn't know of anyone in the wastes who was comfortable with their personal space being invaded so much and often unless the person was sweet on the invader. His nerves calmed as an idea formed in his mind. If he played his cards right, there was a slim chance his earlier ideas about pleasuring Chief might become reality.

"So, what happened back there?" Chief's mouth moved into a soft smirk. Butch watched him pull two fresh towels from the locker and use one to scrub at the moisture that remained in his hair and on his well defined chest. The other towel was tossed in Butch's general direction. Chief probably expected some deadbeat bullshit, a story nervously stammered out professing innocence and other crap. Fuck that shit, he was a Tunnel Snake, and snakes didn't do slow or cautious. He looked up at Chief with half lidded eyes, dropped his voice to what he hoped was an arousing tone, and answered honestly.

"I think you're hot, Chief, and I wanna fuck ya."

The towel slowed; then stopped. Their eyes locked once he removed the towel from his head. There was no disgust or horror there, just a curious thoughtfulness that was almost encouraging. Without breaking eye contact, Chief dropped the towel on the desk and moved to stand before Butch. Time stilled as Chief nudged Butch's legs open and stepped between them, close enough to brush against his bulging crotch.

"_Hark_, Butch, when it's just the two of us. And the feeling," he bent over and placed his hands on either side of Butch's torso, bringing their mouths a sixteenth of an inch apart, "is mutual." And with that, Butch's lips were captured in a kiss that knocked the air out of his lungs. He felt hands lift his hips and strip him of his wet swim shorts. Through the haze of desire, he heard Chief's shorts drop and then they were pressed together, so warm and close. He wanted to map every inch of his lover with his tongue but he was shaking with want and Chief... _Hark..._ was devouring his control along with his mouth. There would be plenty of time for slow exploration later, after lots and lots of hard, fast fucking.

He managed to gasp out "lube" when they parted for breath and then he was watching Hark's godlike body cross to the desk and pull a vial from a drawer. Seconds later he was pushed onto his back, and lip bruising kisses took his mind off the oiled fingers in his ass. Hark found his pleasure button with dizzying speed and reduced him to a moaning, panting mess less than five minutes after they'd fallen upon each other. He didn't care about pride or endurance; he needed this and begged for more. Then Hark was pushing into him and he forced his eyes to open and focus long enough to watch his dream come true. Rivet City's most bad ass, unflappable citizen was flushed with arousal, coated in sweat, completely at Butch's mercy. He stopped being able to think entirely once Hark changed his angle of entry and slammed into his prostate.

Hours later, he was a sore sticky mess, entangled with his lover and unwilling to sleep despite physical exhaustion. This was too peaceful, and he didn't want it to end. Hark had drifted off a while ago, and Butch had only recently stopped staring at his face. Damned if the man didn't look angelic when completely at rest. He figured he should probably be concerned about the aftermath of their actions but that sort of thing never really struck him as very important, so he finally allowed himself to sleep.

When he woke, the room was empty. This didn't strike him as odd; Hark had to work... although he supposed it was Chief again now that he was on duty. He pulled on his swim wear and left the room, but was surprised to find himself heading for the Wastelands instead of his room. He could clean off while swimming just as well as he could in the showers. He detoured through the market in the hopes of seeing Chief, but no such luck. He wasn't by the bridge to the Wastes either. Butch moved to cross the bridge and stopped mid-span. Why had he spent all this time going around and entering from the shore? He could just as easily jump from here! He tossed a smirk at the kid guarding the bridge and hiked himself up on the railing, then dropped over the other side into the water.

He had to fight not to gasp as he plummeted into the surprisingly cold water. He pulled his best fish impersonation and swam rapidly under the surface, relishing in the feel of water sliding around him. This was almost as wonderful as being with his Chief. His_ Hark_. Maybe it was a little early to lay claim, but now that he'd had a taste, he would do everything in his power to make Hark want no one else but him for the rest of his life. Adaira had believed in the concept of soul mates; it was one of the things Butch used to tease her about. If he ever met back up with her, he'd have to apologize for his stupidity.

Finally he surfaced, shaking his head to get the water out of his ears. And when he looked toward the shore, there was Hark. Chief. Whatever. He was smiling warmly and Butch found himself drawn towards the shore. Oddly enough, Hark removed his boots and socks and began to wade out to meet him. Butch felt his heart explode with joy to see The Chief breaking his professional mask in broad daylight just to get close to him faster. And then they faced each other, Hark looming over him. Butch found himself tilting his head back as Hark leaned down _(in full view of security on deck!)_ and kissed him. It was light but possessive and made him realize he was, against all odds, stupidly in love with Hark. And as his lover (he hoped) repeated that kiss several more times, he realized he didn't give a shit.


End file.
